Child Rearing
by iRoach13
Summary: He was their father in the sense that he gave them purpose. I was like their mother in the sense that I gave them to means to fulfill that purpose. (Marionette x Golden Freddy/Fredbear with the murderer on the side)(What happened after FNAF 4 with the children essentially)
1. Chapter 1

It is difficult to wake up dead. It's not so much 'waking up' as it is jolting suddenly out of your body, like when you jolt out of drifting to sleep. It's sudden and scary with the added sensation of falling.

All I could do was get out of the sack of meat that was my body. My Golden Freddy plush was on the side table next to my hospital bed, a vase of flowers sitting next to the yellow bear. It's eyes were watching me like it was some sort of predator, carefully inspecting me. It was watching _me_ , not my body.

I looked to my hands, just as small and pale and delicate as they always were. The most prominent difference, however, was their translucent quality. I remember screaming, feeling tears welling up, and falling onto my backside like I would in any situation where I was scared.

A young boy, just my age it seemed, came to me then. I heard his footsteps, but didn't see him approach. He had a purple hat on his head of kinky black hair. His eyes were pretty and blue, and it contrasted sharply with his dark skin. I hadn't ever seen a black boy with blue eyes before, and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight. He held out a hand, and I shook my head. I wasn't going to trust him. I wasn't ready to.

"If you don't get up, you'll get stuck here. No one wants to haunt a hospital. The people here are stinky."

I looked at him in surprise. There was no booming voice that I had expected of a ghost or an angel, and he sounded just like my Golden Freddy. I swallowed and took his hand. He pulled me up easily, even though I was taller than him. I practically floated onto my feet. He cupped my cheeks, keeping my dark eyes on his clear blue ones. He spoke slowly and with purpose, making sure I listened closely.

"We have to go back. You have to go to Freddy's."

I nearly choked on my words. I began to bawl harder, wiping my face and hiccuping.

"No! No, I died there! Why would I go back? Are you trying to get me killed?"

He leaned his forehead to mine with a deep frown.

"That's the only place where you can be safe. It's the only place I can do stuff and it's the only place you'll be able to do stuff. Your tragedy happened there, so you can haunt there with me. I can fix you there. Do you get it?"

"No!"

He sighs, deciding to pull me out of the hospital room as the nurses tried to revive my cold and grey corpse.

"Trust me, when I died there, I could do things with my death. If you stay here, you can't stop what happened to me. To us. To them."

I didn't seem to have a choice in the matter. He seemed to know what was best for me. He had an informed opinion, and momma always said that was important. I hadn't ever been dead, but had been for long enough to understand.

Understanding that I was dead by itself was difficult.

I kept quiet as he took me, bringing me back to that hellish building. It was odd however, as things looked different. The animatronics weren't moving. Their shadows weren't thrown onto the wall. It was empty and silent. I was confused. This building couldn't be the same place.

He hopped into the Fredbear suit, his blue eyes disappearing into the mouth. I was worried, remembering being in those jaws. He lifted a mechanical hand and waved at me and I giggled at the show of control. This wasn't so scary, really, when he was guaranteed to keep me safe. It was unnerving to see the jaws that squeezed the life out of me, however.

The Fredbear left the stage with heavy steps, moving over to the box of masks that were kept for birthday parties. He dug one out with a laugh before handing over one of a mime, or something like that. I looked at it before looking up at the intimidating frame of Fredbear. He didn't have the sharp edges I remembered. He was round, like a teddy. Like my teddy!

I put on the mask and smiled at Fredbear, as well as the boy inside. The animatronic nods, offering its hand to me. The sharpened claws in my nightmares were nothing but round, golden fingers. I let him lead me to my new home - an animatronic that matched my mask. It was limp and black and thin, and yet reminded me of a tree. Tall, with skinny limbs and stretching roots.

I stepped into the puppet and made it my home. It's face - my face - lifted to look at the other boy. It was odd seeing Fredbear and him at the same time.

I reached for him and my hand hit his stomach, keeping me from touching him directly. He smiled and pulled my outstretched hand into his own. I felt like there was a string tying me to the Earth, and if it wasn't there I would float away.

He left Fredbear to show me how my box worked. There was a spring for me to sit on, allowing me to spring out and scare the kids. Hearing that, I sunk into the box.

"I don't want to scare other kids. What if I hurt them?"

He laughed, and our hands were intertwined.

"They'll love you. Just let the puppet take over and I'm sure you'll be great. The kids love being scared."

I laugh. He looks at me questioning, staring into the pits of my mask with those very pretty eyes.

"You're a kid too."


	2. Chapter 2

The first month or so was difficult for me to say the least.

At first I was too tense to even think about scaring the kids. My music box would be wound and wound up, only for me to never pop out. When I would, the kids would scream and I would cower in my box at the sound of their fear, not recognizing the joyous laughter that lagged behind. I hated being afraid! Why would I want another person to feel that way? I nearly cried at the thought of causing a nightmare.

At night, Goldie would tell me news about the previous day's work; he told me how much the kids missed the puppet. He would talk about how good it was to see me during the day when I sprung out with a friendly, pre-recorded 'boo!' He said that when I asked people to be my friend, he wanted to volunteer immediately. At night, I left my box to curl up close to Goldie and in the morning the staff would remove me from him to take me back to my box.

I knew he was just trying to motivate me to act right and that he was worried about what could happen. I would have continued as I was, but it took a drastic change for me to get in the grove of behaving like an animatronic. This shift came just in time (even though it was in a horrible way). I was going to be scrapped soon.

There was a someone, a young girl, in the back room. I didn't visit Goldie that night, being too concerned with the ghost in the back, despite Goldie having his own issues that he needed help with.

When I drifted on my wires into the back room, I spotted her wild hair immediately. She looked small and vulnerable, but he mane of curly hair made me think of a lion. She was a girl that was slightly older than me and looked very familiar. I was at Freddy's often before I died and every day since, however, so she could have been anyone. She was shivering, like she was so cold. Her lips were blue and her red hair was covered in frost. She sat next to an identical dead body, and I knew she was killed here, like Goldie.

She looked pitiful, and the sheer cold washing over me forced me to help her - some way, somehow.

I approached her, grabbing a Freddy plush that was left on the table. It was hers, I thought. I handed it to her and she clutched it to her chest, the bear an obvious safety blanket for her. She didn't stop shaking, but her color was coming back, cheeks becoming very rosy. I looked for more heat, a thicker blanket. I looked to a new, experimental animatronic. With the launch of the new television show, he was supposed to be added to the small roster of performers, as well as lift weight from the staff. After two spring lock suit failures and two suits being retired, the staff couldn't handle the extra work and pressure.

I removed the bow tie and hat, placing the two comfort items on the girl. She looked to me with golden eyes and I watched them in awe as they focused on my porcelain face. She reached for me and I took her hand with my long, velvet fingers. She followed my lead as I brought her to her feet, her long hair whipping around her wildly like it was alive, the ends licking the air like wild flames. The hat on her head was too big, much like Goldie's.

I lifted her body and soul, depositing both into Freddy. The suit didn't move for a moment before twitching to life with a deep laugh, even though I could clearly hear her giggling.

Why did I do that?

She stood, and he stood with her. The cold retreated, and heat flooded the room and my soul. It was like my heart had been set ablaze with pride.

"Thank you."

She smiled at me, _at me_ , and I smiled back. I nodded quietly and she sauntered out of the back room with the little bit of acknowledging. The new animatronic was acting like a thick winter coat, keeping the cold away from the fiery girl inside.

I was confused as to where this girl could have come from and who would so carelessly leave her rotting corpse behind.

I would have asked her the next night, but the question was answered by her mechanical growling at the head guard the next early morning. He was talking to the man assigned to train all the new recruits about the new animatronic, eyeing the new bear as Spring Bonnie and Spring Fredbear were being retired to the back. His eyes were deep green and seemed to look through her, and I could feel the joints of my fingers straining against my tight grip. I was feeling protective of what I had created, what I had spawned. He was the cause. He was who Goldie was looking for.

We had a target for our burning revenge.


	3. Chapter 3

Every weekday, myself and Freddy would go after the Purple Man, so dubbed because of his all purple uniform. He was the only person who had all purple clothing like that, and he was the only one with those blindingly green eyes. His golden badge read _Paxon Kellerman_.

It was impossible to go after someone during the day, but thanks to the shortage of staff, the Purple Man was on night shift for exactly one month. It gave Freddy her chance for revenge as well as Goldie's chance for blood. It gave me a chance to keep _my_ little girl _happy_. Her temper was hot and high, but she was patient the first couple nights. As the week passed, she became twitchy, her eyes glowing white with her raw hate for the head guard.

We didn't get him that first week, much to her dismay. She threw a tumultuous tantrum, and it was up to me to keep her content. I left the puppet and brought the girl into a comforting hug, practically pulling her out of Freddy before she could do any damage. She sobbed into my shoulder, her hair twitching with the shaking of her shoulders. Goldie wasn't happy with her behavior, loudly scolding her for acting like a brat. His sharp, blue eyes were fixed on her as she wiped tears from her warm golden eyes. Her glare was bright like the sun.

"You're not the only one who wants him dead, you big baby! I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for nearly five years! I've been trapped here inside a _bear_ for _five goddamn years_!"

She snarls wildly at him, sounding much too like a rabid animal. "Who _cares_ about _your_ five years! _I_ was supposed to grow up! _I_ was going to be a _lawyer_! _Momma_ said I was going to _Harvard_! _You_ never even had a future when you were, like what, three - !"

"I was _seven_!"

They were both aggressive kids, but this was different. It was much like watching two grand alpha beasts facing off. The short, stocky Goldie didn't seem too fond of being opposed. Perhaps he hadn't been challenged like this before. Freddy's hair lifted, like when a cat was being threatened.

I never thought it would come to blows, so I moved safely between them, staring both of them down for their rambunctious behavior.

"All of this fighting _isn't_ fixing the problem. You _both_ want him dead, and I can support that. But you two can't fight like senseless animals."

Freddy softened immediately at the sight of me, as I was much like a hero to her, but it took Goldie a moment to cool off. He wasn't temperamental, but he thought of himself as the oldest and as the big bear; he'd been dead the longest and was the first to give life to someone. I seemed to be the one in charge of life now, so I was second in command and I demanded respect if I was going to stay in that position. I knew Goldie needed me.

These fights for an alpha position that didn't exist happened often. They fought verbally, but never physically. No, Freddy was a good girl despite her temper and wouldn't fight, and Goldie said that his father said never to hit a lady.

He insisted that despite her anger, she was indeed a lady. He whispered to me that he would see her curtsy to the kids inside of the Freddy suit when he bowed. She would twirl as Freddy danced and when Freddy delivered food, she made sure that he balanced everything, all at once, so delicately.

Goldie was infatuated. I could tell.

Freddy was not impressed by Goldie, but I figured that was because of her desire to be the boss-bear. She seemed like the type of girl who would run for student president in freshman year and somehow win every year until she graduated. She was sharp and intelligent and had quick wits. She liked to be the brightest thing in the room, and it was obvious at night, as Freddy hid in the shadows, his dark laugh seeming to fill the rooms with hot breath. I could see why her mother thought that she would be a great lawyer.

After the fourth week and the last opportunity for us to get to the murderer, there was another child. This time, the boiling inside of Freddy seemed to fill me. Instead of the calm hovering into the back room, I charged into the room. I didn't let wires carry me, but my own stubby feet which stretched much farther than any human adult leg could, pulling me forward into the room.

The boy had long, straight, blonde, greasy hair and for a moment I wondered if he had ever taken a bath before. His hair was full of knots that, on his physical body, was splattered with his stray blood. It was pitiful to see his shocked expression. He seemed fixated on his own self, so much so that he didn't even notice me. Once he finally did, he screamed, thinking that I was his killer. I shushed him and he was obedient to my desire for silence. I reared my masked face from the Puppet's chest, a smile that he couldn't be seen behind the plastic material on my face. I offered my ghostly hand, and he instead lifted himself, puffing out his chest like a proud bird, even though he was thin as sin and just about as short. His rainbow tie-dyed shirt brought to mind a hippie and I wondered if he was some sort of flower child. Khaki shorts and brown sandals completed his ridiculous look.

"I don't need your help!" He proclaimed. His voice broke noticeably.

I tilted my head, deciding to bring out the new Bonnie suit. I receded back into the Marionette and I turned away, dragging the suit out to him. He looked at me in confusion as I did, stiffly watching me work.

"Do you want to get your revenge on the Purple Man?"

He kept his red eyes on me, the corners of his mouth dropping low. His skin was thin and translucent, like paper. I thought I was pale!

He nods, the veins in neck obviously moving with the motion.

I lifted his dead body, widening the grin on the Marionette's face. "Then you have to trust me."

I stuff him in the suit and, like a vacuum, he was sucked into the purple rabbit. He took to controlling it quicker than Freddy had. Bonnie stood, snorting out a quiet thanks before deciding to join Freddy. There was the quiet shuffling of cloth bodies and when I exited the back room after cleaning up I saw the two of them sitting together in front of their standing suits. They were introduced and Bonnie was braiding Freddy's wild mane.

My heart felt like it was fluttering as it tried to beat. It was so good to see my children getting along.

 _Where did that come from?_ I was looking at them with gentle eyes, thinking that I was the thing that birthed them. That thought alone was odd, as I had no context for giving birth, as I was a young boy. I never had a younger sibling and I never experienced the part of 'the talk' where they talked about the baby being thrust from a woman's loins.

And yet, here I was, cradling my heart in my chest as a mother accepts her newborn baby. I was a parent of two children.


	4. Chapter 4

It continued like that for the next few months.

Two more children were added to our roster. Finding them was like having a pressure inside of myself build and build while implanting them within the animatronic suits was like that pressure being relieved.

One, the dark skinned Chica, came after having been torn apart, limb by limb. It seemed the Purple Man was trying to make her body harder to clean up after. I simply cleaned her up, ruffled her short dreadlocks and put her into Chica's wide belly, limb by limb. No, we wanted a kill. We can't have our dear Purple Man arrested.

Chica was a strange girl. She was tall and dark with a smile full of pearly teeth and eyes that were almost comically big. She was all long limbs, but was sturdy like a little mountain. I assumed that she was the oldest among us, perhaps around thirteen or so, as she had small breasts, but that was the extent of her curves. She was also a stylish girl, wearing a bandana around her neck and high waisted shorts. She was in the 8th grade.

Her death was most painful.

When I found her, she was snapping her narrow jaw, wanting to hack off a finger or two from my felt hands.

I loved the look of her skin. I hadn't seen anyone so dark before. Goldie was brown, but she was almost blue. She had a strange accent that made me think of France, and when she spoke French it brought Goldie and I to attention. It took time for Freddy to get used to having to share her spotlight with an equally amazing girl, but Chica didn't want there to be competition. She immediately began cooking for Freddy, just to watch her happy face as Chica told the bear 'Bon Appetite' before serving her. She loved to cook, even attempting to make Pizzas during the day.

Freddy began sleeping curled up to Chica, her red hair and lightly bronzed skin and blue dress looking too bright against Chica. There was an odd balance there between the two girls, and I could feel in my heart that they would be very best friends.

The boy that came was about as tall as me, so shorter than Chica and Freddy, but taller than Goldie. He had a long, pointed nose and strawberry blonde hair that was spiked up wildly. I was convinced it was a dye job, even though he insisted it was natural. I could see his brown roots starting to grow in. His body was torn to hell, and parts of him were missing. Other than the struggle of finding all of the boy's flesh, he was the most cooperative. He helped me find all of his bits and pieces, sniffing them out like a dog. The red shirt he wore had a golden lightning bolt and when he caught me staring, he pulled the bottom of his shirt down, stretching the symbol so as to show it to me clearly.

"It's the Flash! I love comics! Will I get to read them here?"

I laughed, and the Marionette's shoulders moved with me. After depositing the last shred that we could find, I picked him up, brushing back the spiky hair on his head and nodded in affirmation before settling the calm and serene boy in the body of Foxy. He's the slowest to take to the suit, but his lower body seemed to react before his upper body, lifting him up as his mechanical arms dangle lifelessly. A joyous, pirate's laugh comes from the music box in his chest before his eyes light up, his hook swinging in front of his face. The boy looked so excited to be Foxy and ran out to join the others.

We were a happy family it seemed. There was a mother - me - a father - Goldie - with two girls and two boys. It reminded me of playing family in school with my friends.

My old friends.

I watched as Foxy leapt about, and he seemed to get along well with Freddy. They were both fiery and energetic. She was more like a fireplace, cozy, but blazing and popping and throwing embers when one got too close. He, on the other hand, was a bit twitchy, as if fueled by energy drinks and electric shocks. They ran around during the day until ten, leaving their empty shells when the restaurant was closed. At night, they both stayed on their stages, like the good children they wanted to be, only becoming active as the weeks continued. Chica didn't want to ever be first to move, but Bonnie was happy to leap on the opportunity to. He was the youngest at ten years old, so he wanted to prove that he could be as angry and full of rage as Freddy, or as dangerous as Goldie.

Goldie would stay in the back room, waiting for a chance to escape. He had been locked away, much to my sadness. I couldn't go and wrap my cloth body around him and I could only visit him between about six to about ten. It wasn't the ten hours we used to get.

I kissed him on the cheek before he was forced to go away from me.

I had been taking care of Freddy, Foxy, Bonnie and Chica all by myself, watching them play when they weren't trying to kill the night guard.

In our minds, if we killed him, the Purple Man would be forced to come back.

That man.

I spent much of my time thinking of the murderer. I wanted to dissect everything about him, from his body to his brain to his behavior. Who else would murder a child but a perverse man. I was convinced he must have gained some devious pleasure from seeing the blood of children in and on things for children. It was sickening.

I stayed quiet during the night, listening to music and thinking. Thinking deeply. At some point, I began going into long trances that wouldn't end until morning when the night guard left, if he did. As the days passed, fewer and fewer night guards could keep their jobs. Suddenly disappearing seemed to make adults lose their positions of employment.

But other than missing adults, what could possibly be of concern? At the time, I didn't consider it, but these children, my babies, were missing themselves.


	5. Chapter 5

In the months of investigation, no one found the bodies.

Months and months and we were beginning to lose that zeal we possessed before. It was hard to stay happy or even in the right mind.

Eventually we were shut down. The animatronics smelled rancid and were oozing out of their joints. They weren't being maintained because no one wanted to clean them and no one wanted to touch the black liquid that stained them.

I was maintained, as I didn't ooze real blood or mucus. When I did, it was a product of me beginning to lose my mind.

We were all fraying at the ends. Goldie didn't come to visit me consistently anymore.

Chica would absentmindedly add poison or trash to pizzas and when it was pointed out she cursed in French. She rarely used English.

Bonnie's demeanor changed from childish playfulness to a calculated act, complete with maddened smiles and impatient twitches. His suit would growl and his eyes would go black, as if he were powered down.

Foxy, the only one who hadn't descended into madness besides myself sequestered himself into pirate's cove. He didn't want to see them like this. He was falling apart while being alone, but anything was better than facing the band, especially Freddy.

Since Goldie hadn't been around, Freddy took to being the leader. Her mother was incredibly right when she said Freddy was going to be a lawyer. Freddy controlled her appointed animatronic suit with precision. She didn't smile anymore, but that flame burned bright. It was a blue flame, cold and controlled, blinding everyone instead of pulling their sight to her.

Even I had lost the will to change. I spent my days and nights just thinking and listening to that music box. When it was left unwound, my thoughts would be interrupted and that rage that had built up would rise and bubble over.

We were tired, and when we heard that a scrapping may have been in order, we saw it as a way out. Maybe we could end this cycle of suffering. However, we never were disposed of. Instead, we were torn apart and used for spare parts. I had never been so disappointed or disgusted.

The new animatronics were smaller, made of metal and plastic, and were quite child friendly. They did everything we could do, but perhaps better.

I was kept and refitted with the new technology that they had. The others were as well, but it seemed like the adults had given up on the old, 'ugly' mechanics. They left Chica without hands and Freddy falling apart at his seams. Foxy was practically dilapidated and Bonnie was...

I hadn't seen so much disrespect since their murders. His face had been pulled off and it had been used in the new animatronic Bonnie.

Bonnie had taken to calling him Clyde, a sneer on his paper thin face, but the rest of us decided to call him Blue.

When I asked where Bonnie heard about Bonnie and Clyde, he said that his parents would talk about some old movie. He liked how the names were paired up, but they were bad guys.

There was an ocean of disgust separating the Toy Animatronics (Blue, Vixy, Hen, and Teddy, we called them) from the originals. Balloon Boy wasn't much of a problem in their eyes and I hadn't had the experience of being replaced. I would bring them the necessary things to keep them working; oil and small parts were easy to take and transport.

The problems came when the next round of kids came in, just as numerous as last time.

Five more kids to birth.

Blue was a blond boy with a lot of baby fat. He was generally bubbly and sweet, though had a bit of a jealous streak and was very over bearing. He was about Goldie's height, looked about twelve years old. He wore a disgruntled look on his face often, but his freckles and button nose simply made his cute.

He took to the suit after a long time of denial that he could be dead.

Hen was a young girl, about eight years old. I personally didn't choose Hen for her, but she insisted, saying that she was her favorite animatronic. She had straight black hair that was pulled into two pony tails. Her dress was blue, with the look of quilt work making up the skirt. The stitches were simply a pattern on the material. Small symbols like hearts and smiling faces occupied the panels. She said that she was Japanese.

Vixy was an odd ball girl. She was the oldest at 14, and it showed in her behavior. She avoided the younger ghosts, preferring to hang out with anyone other than Bonnie or Hen. Even Blue was left out of her 'circle' despite his age because he wasn't cool enough. She had short black hair that didn't even reach her shoulders. It was choppy and she said that it was punk or something. She wore braces despite her perfect looking teeth and had piercings that she called gauges that stretched her earlobes. She claimed to be descended from some ancient royal line of Indian rulers, but her family was from Jersey.

Teddy was a thin, nerdy looking boy. He wore thick rimmed glasses and wore a short Mohawk. He said it was an attempt to look cooler, but I knew that his thin limbs and short stature detracted from the toughness he was going for. While Chica was thin, she was tall and elegant, and while I was skinny and short I was also a weepy, shuddering mess. How he could spout out the smart things he always did, like useless facts and knowledge about everything, while being so confident and so skinny, I'd never know. He said he was black, but he also said he was white. I didn't meet many mixed kids (It was a different time in the mid 60's and 70's, so the 80's didn't have many mixed kids my age) and he was novel to me in an odd way. His hair wasn't kinky like Goldie's and after asking if I could touch Teddy's hair, I decided I liked Goldie's better.

Balloon Boy was a chubby boy that had short curly hair. He was the youngest and most pitiful at six years old. Goldie had taken him under his wing, comforting the child. He told me that he knew what it was like to be barely in first grade and wanting your mommy. He said that he didn't have guidance, but BB could have that chance.

BB was a bit of a cry baby (so I could relate), but easily made jealous. He liked to have toys of his own that he didn't have to share. Often, he took batteries from things to make small castles with. He would knock them down with a laugh and Goldie would help him rebuild. In the times where we had rest, Goldie would let BB cuddle into his side and they looked like perfect siblings. Perhaps even father and son.

Every child was precious to me, but I couldn't take many more deaths and bodies. If another child had to pass through me, I would just die, I know it. I was tired of having to breathe new life into these kids, even as I listened to them run about.

This was all that Purple Man's fault.

Like a mother left without her children's father, I felt a certain amount of resentment. Even when we lost our good sense at night, I felt the cold flame that Freddy had become.

I used to hate this line of thinking; the Purple Man in all his dishonesty and cruelty and evil was the other half in the birth of the children. I had always preferred to think of Goldie as the other contributor, but no amount of crushes or later relationship could change the facts.

It was the Purple Beast. He was their father in the sense that he gave them purpose. I was like their mother in the sense that I gave them to means to fulfill that purpose.


	6. Chapter 6

Silent. Dark. Quiet. Good.

Music is playing.

Sleep. Sleeping. Sleeping beauty.

Don't wake the babies. Mama, don't wake mama.

Find papa bear, dearest. Vixy, find Papa.

Bye bye dearie.

Sleep. Sleeping.

Silent. Silent? True silence?

Mama wakes up. Mind is clear. Mind is rage, for it is fire.

Rising, lifting, far above. Strings, strings take me. Take me to that man. That man had left long ago, I thought but here he is.

Pop, pop, pop.

Pop goes the weasel. Pop goes his spine. Pop goes his neck, his lungs pop, his knuckles pop, his eyes pop, his breathing pops.

Pops.

Stops.

Another one to hide. Silly mama, always mistaking the guards for that bad man.


	7. Chapter 7

I woozily rose from my box, moving limply as I did so. I had little motivation anymore, but the children needed taking care of.

Vixy was a mangled mess, but she hated to hear that word. I tried to help her, put her back together, but it was proving impossible. I visited her briefly and she screeched garbled static at me. I limped along my way, visiting the toys next. They nodded at me briefly, just enough humanity left for them to smile at me. They were still polite and I didn't have the heart to tell them to give it up.

The back room was my next destination. My daughters were most in tact. Freddy seemed to have lost a few marbles. Chica barely ever spoke English. The real tragedy was my dear son Bonnie.

He had spent every day sticking his thick purple fingers into the black abyss that used to be his face. It was sad to watch him pull out wires and mutter to himself. He was a tortured, sweet little soul.

All in all, I suppose things were better than the day before.

Day and night, we hunted the night guards under the instructions of my dearest Goldie. He, the love of my life, insisted that the adults, every one of them, was responsible for our demises. Part of me knew that was incorrect, but I wouldn't deny him. He was the wisest and I had to trust he knew best. When the oldest of us, Vixy, aggressively agreed I knew there was nothing to hold back the unbridled rage.

Night after night I seemed to black out into my thoughts, only to wake up with my hands around a corpse's neck. The feeling of being so in control was quite addictive.

If it weren't for the bite, I would have been content to stay like that forever.

It was bound to happen, I know. The children were antsy and the robotics reflected that. Watching Vixy bite into that man, the one that was the night guard before. There was a cyclical feeling to it, I had to admit. It was almost beautiful. Four years back was my own bite!

Nearly immediately the toys were scrapped. It was sad to watch them have to wander the building aimlessly, but I was there with them. I also was aimless.

The wandering children and one adult (Vixy insisted when she turned 18) latched onto the others, traveling with them as they were scooped up and repaired. Sure, it was a year or so before we saw any children again, but we saw them nonetheless.

They called us names. They said we were ugly or scary or outdated. Bonnie and Blue clung to each other in their shared body, the occasional hiss and jabbing of fingers in eye sockets. Blood dropped from the animatronic eyes. Chica held Hen in her arms as she seized and gagged and screamed, the new animatronic's mouth opening until it was stuck. Freddy and Teddy would scream and shout and holler until the animatronic's voice box was shot to hell.

Foxy was the strongest of us all. He was quiet and even when Vixy wanted to tear into the disrespectful brats, he was calm and collected. Vixy tore Foxy apart despite him turning the other cheek. The holes left over would never be fixed if I recall correctly.

I clung to Goldie along with Balloon Boy. He didn't have a place to go like the others, so we were especially crowded. I was going stir crazy. Our combined wills pushed Goldie's already fragile and old animatronic in different directions.

We were a perfect family, I suppose. Better together than alone.


End file.
